Little Boys Don't
by ladyhurt
Summary: A series of prose drabbles mapping the awkward journey from boy to man and all the pit stops in between. SBRL SLASH.
1. Ebony and Ivory

**Little Boys Don't**

_Summary_: A series of mini stories mapping the awkward journey from boy to man - and all the pit stops in between. Slash, SB/RL.

The first, Ebony and Ivory, recounts a moment just after Remus has forgiven Sirius for the incident with Snape.

_Rating_: G, I think.

_Distribution_: I don't see why anyone would want it, but if you do, just give me a yell as to where it is, so I can grin and point when I visit.

_Disclaimer_: Well, I certainly don't own them grumble. All praise JKR and all her slashy undertones g.

**One**: Ebony and Ivory

Warm orange light of morning filters through the parted curtains of Remus' bed. The calming hum of the now moonless sky is a powerfully abrupt contrast to the endless thrall he is subjected to with each sunset.

Beside him, ebony winds over ivory with the sultry grace of water as Sirius moves in his slumber, as his hair caresses his skin. Eyelashes flutter but the lids never part to reveal the silver underneath.

He had crept between those same sheets once again, with the familiarity of a lover, as he often did since their friendship had begun its slow revival. Remus was glad for this routine, no longer did his presence - in his bed or otherwise - cause Remus that bleak, burning pain. No longer did Sirius stir in Remus a wolf seeking a retaliation it had every right to claim.

Each time his companion's milky skin skimmed Remus' own marred surface he would pretend Sirius was offering a drop of his soul - a fragment of the beauty that dwells beneath the miles of ivory skin. He hopes with something between innocence and hopelessness that Sirius will neither demand it back nor attempt to steal any of Remus' own - for the latter has already promised half to the wolf and fears divulging more. Perhaps it is his selfish human nature. Or the wolf's; they are lonely creatures.

Sirius snakes an arm through the rivers of red bedclothes to rest upon Remus' bare chest - who reminds himself that oxygen is, after all, a vital life requirement. These are the moments when he wishes to join Sirius in sweet sleep so he could tuck this memory where his analytical conscious mind cannot find it - lost within the confinements of the sleeping mind, captured in time. Where he cannot question why this is wrong and unnatural and shouldn't feel so honestly, blissfully right. The skin beneath Sirius' hands is blindingly hot, searing with temptation.

Little boys don't hold each other with such naked desperation in the night.


	2. Silver and Gold

**Little Boys Don't**

_Summary_: A series of mini stories mapping the awkward journey from boy to man - and all the pit stops in between. Slash, SB/RL.

_Rating_: G

_Distribution_: I don't see why anyone would want it, but if you do, just give me a yell as to where it is, so I can grin and point when I visit.

_Disclaimer_: Well, I certainly don't own them grumble. All praise JKR and all her slashy undertones g.

_Author's Notes_: Frankly, I've never been so disappointed in my reviews than I am with this fiction. I got two nice ones, and the other two? Completely heinous. Really people? One commented rather disgustingly, not to mention completely childishly, and the second simply pathetically.

This story is rated G because there is no mention of any sexual or otherwise explicit material. I _know_ the reason the reviewer believes it is "dirty" (their words) is because their homophobic mind decided to read this story despite the words SLASH: SB/RL written in the summary. Yes, this contains boy-on-boy action, but how old are you? Get over it, it's people like you that make the world so difficult and full hatred. "Covered in dirt" – trust me, nothing could save your mind buddy. You are a ruined human being, and you have nothing to live for.

To the reviewer Rae Roberts – thank you.

To the reviewer Edgar-A.-Poe – thank you for the kind words. I appreciate you adding me to your favourites.

**Two**: Silver and Gold

He doesn't touch his food until everyone else has joined him. It is a formality he has picked up from years of stifflingly ceremonious meals amidst unforgiving parents and cold brothers. This morning he waits a half hour for Remus; his companions slug down mountains of bacon and pumpkin juice, while Sirius sits with practised patience for a quiet, sandy-haired boy to leave the infirmary, make his way to the Great Hall, sit down, and decide not to eat a thing. They ask him for confirmation of his good health, waiting for his frivoulous lies that are expected but unbelievable. Only then does Sirius pick up a gold fork elegantly between his fingers and plunge it into his cold breakfast. He makes no sound of complaint, this ritual the only lesson of patience he will ever pay penance with.

He feels Remus' eyes on him, as he does every time they dare to linger too long, and is greeted with a familiar nervous tingling he has learnt to write off easily. When he dares to sneak a glance back, Remus has usually turned away already, talking to someone else with skilled indifference to Sirius' gaze. Perhaps he is too impatient to wait for Sirius to solve the puzzle in each look, unlock the secrets that are constantly bubbling to the surface with each shared glance or shivering touch. Their eyes might meet, when Remus cannot shift his eyes away fast enough and Sirius is struck with the same sudden inhibition that often leads to extensive pranks. Silver meets gold and perhaps they flush, or their hands brush, or James coughs, and each turn away with delicate uncertainty to join the world that refuses to make sense at their age and certainly enjoys making every moment as hard as possible for two teenage boys.

Little boys don't watch each other with such secret, furtive passion.


	3. Silk and Satin

Little Boys Dont

Summary: A series of mini stories mapping the awkward journey from boy to man - and all the pit stops in between. Slash, SB/RL.

Rating: Somewhere within the range of NC-17, I think. It has boys touching themselves blush. I have never written this sort of scene before, it makes me nervous g.

Distribution: I don't see why anyone would want it, but if you do, just give me a yell as to where it is, so I can grin and point when I visit.

Disclaimer: Well, I certainly don't own them grumble. All praise JKR and all her slashy undertones g.

Author's Note: This is my first Harry Potter, first Sirius/Remus and first slash fic ever. Certainly not my first fanfic period, but - well. You catch my drift. Enjoy.

**Three**: Silk and Satin

Remus chooses to do it in the shower, early in the morning when he wakes and no one is yet up to question the pink flush across his cheeks or the musky smell of the steamy bathroom. The shower does not quite scald his sensitive skin, but the heat is enough so the spray on his back keeps him grounded to reality. The reality being he is alone, hot, and harder than usual because once again Sirius has chosen Remus' bed over his own and has dismissed the notion of pajamas altogether, settling instead for silky boxers that hug certain parts of him and make sleep rather difficult for Remus. So it leads him to this moment, one arm braced against the wall, eyes blinded by sheets of water and stinging from soap, and a hand wrapped firmly around his shaft, pumping with frantic desire and little pace or awkward sensitivity. When he comes, liquid sliding across his parted fingers he can't help the images racing through his mind, and later he will come up with the most logic of excuses to explain them away, but for now they are clouded dreams of piercing silver and sinuous silk. They are nervous glances and barking laughs and someone so wildly free it frightens Remus. That someone is not curvy, nor especially soft, and the voice that rings softly through his mind is deep with maturity Remus isn't sure he has. He. The boy who gives shape to his want and calms his cravings.

Sirius allows himself the setting of his own bed, sometimes at night but usually in the morning, after Remus has snuck into the bathroom and the loss of warmth beside him causes Sirius to wake. He almost allows himself to hope his friend has not noticed the arousal his presence causes Sirius, when their legs tangle during the night or Remus' hands brush his hipbones and create yet more sensations for Sirius to dwell over in his own bed, unused and cold. He pauses to inhale the sheets, the scents of the two boys still lingering, mixing together to create mouth-watering temptation. A deep groan escapes his lips and his erection twitches in unfulfilled need. Sirius considers relieving it right here, but knows Remus will smell it on the sheets and never allow him in his bed again, so he slips out of the covers and stumbles to his own, perfectly made bed, slipping under the cold covers that do nothing for the want hidden in his boxers. When he touches himself the sighs that emanate from his lips are those of relief, of unresolved want, of pure desire. The sheets' red colour deepens with moisture, his sweat and his semen, and in his haze he reaches out to the empty space beside him, clutching with one hand the sheets and with the other the pulsing between his legs. Hips lurch forward and the onslaught of images as he lets go are not excused nor explained, as Sirius understands this desire and refuses to cheapen it with questioning and denial.

Little boys do not desire each other.

---

Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who reviewed so kindly **this** time! I wrote a huge rant about this in my livejournal ) and it made my day to hear that people are reading it who actually have taste (or at least, aren't homophobic). Thank you!

Glinda – I already praised you in my LJ g but I will say it again: thank you for making my day, and not discouraging me from continuing to post this story! It was very good of you to review, thank you soso much!

Seraphina Pyra – Thank you, it's great to hear those kind words. XD

0o (vergaravisigoth) - laughs I hope this is quick enough ... ? Thanks so much for the praise, it makes my day!

Rae Roberts – As far as first reviews go, this one was so nice. Thank you!


	4. Velvet and Cashmere

**Little Boys Don't**

Summary: A series of mini stories mapping the awkward journey from boy to man - and all the pit stops in between. Slash, SB/RL.

Rating: Somewhere between PG-13 and NC-17, but only if you squint and stand on your head.

Distribution: Right now it's at the SBRL Y!Group, and the remusxsirius LJ. And my LJ.

Disclaimer: Well, I certainly don't own them -grumble-. All praise JKR and all her slashy undertones -g-.

Author's Note: I set the rating for chapter 3 to be R, but it doesn't look like decided to comply with my request ... -looks at ff . net strangely-

Also, it seems to hate astericks so it didn't put them in -hates ff . net-

**Four**: Velvet and Cashmere

It begins as many things do, passively and quietly, the first sign so small - the brush of fingertips across a palm - it might have been ignored. It is a revelation of sorts, a warning that turning back would be an impossible feat of utmost self-control, should either choose to take the moment back. The world is astonishingly still, the only sound the crackle of the fire and the pounding of two wild heartbeats. Shallow breathing in synchronization speaks volumes of the desire that builds, creating crackling tension in the air. Sirius leans forward first, but pulls back to search within Remus' eyes, asking - _pleasepleasepleaseplease_ - for confirmation that it is not only him who is stifled by wonderment, that it is not just years of unresolved desire that is creating this within his mind, that it is real and true and - _please_ - Remus could take everything from him if for only one moment of reciprocated _love_.

Sirius wonders idly if that is too much to ask from another boy.

Remus knows nothing but the breath across his lips, so close yet just beyond his reach. He wonders if the millimetres between them is actually miles and if all his frustration has brought on already impending insanity. The air hangs thickly around him and Remus senses Sirius is about to pull back, and when he does, eons later, Remus feels an aching loss.

He looks away, suddenly ashamed for ever allowing himself the hope that his coveting was shared. Hanging his head, he mutters his apologies, choking on the false words of self-reproach and knowing that truly he could never be sorry for loving Remus, for wanting him beyond any doubt.

Remus watches as ivory hair falls over Sirius' face and covers the silver eyes so laden with guilt and pain, and suddenly needs to join his friend in self hatred, and begins to also apologize profusely.

Both stumble over words of little meaning and while sorries tumble from their lips, silver meets gold and suddenly words are ineffectual and inadequate and all that matters is the velvet of Sirius' lips against the cashmere touch of Remus' cheek. Perhaps he missed his mark, but by doing so found that running his lips across Remus' skin produced its own efficacious response, in the form of fingers tangled in ebony strands and growls of approval. Sirius pulls Remus closer, and with not a fragment of the pendulous doubt that had plagued him for so long, he meets the other's lips with fervent passion, a product of so many early mornings filled with aching desire.

Noses gently felt their way across paths of rough skin. Necks sufficiently explored and tracked by eager mouths. Bodies mapped with the curious uncertainty of a blind man searching for light in the perpetual darkness. Hard chests pressed together acted as stark reminders of the loss of familiarity of breasts and soft curves.

Remus smells of old books and smokey candlelight, and Sirius breathes him in, savouring the blessed taste on his tongue. He would like to stay like this forever, nose buried in the other boy's neck, all senses suffocated and drowning within the cashmere that surrounds him.

Sirius is the dew of early morn that sweeps across the world, a deific covering of velvet upon Remus. He clings to this moment with a silent desperation, wishing once again for that little part of Sirius that he could steal away and worship for eternity.

They can no longer be described as friends but as lovers - mates, bound by love and trust and complete desire.

They wish to sink - to _melt_ - into one embrace to live inside each other.

Little boys - don't won't _can't_ - do this.

But then, perhaps they are no longer little boys.

---

Author's notes:

Magus Durron: Thank you! For your review, for putting me in your favourite authors/story list, just thank you! You made my day!


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